So now that I'm half way through, I think this whole cancer routine is starting to be just that --a routine. I'm now past the chemo slows and woke up yesterday thinking--hey, I feel pretty normal and I went about my day doing the normal things like laundry, getting the kids to do their chores, cleaning the house and running the kids to their various activities. There are a few things that aren't so normal....I found the box of Christmas cards that I was so ambitious to make in early December only to have most of them sit in the box for the remainder of December. I did try to send out a good batch of them between chemo 1 and Chemo 2...I sent two cards to one address (two different household names) and got one back that I swear has the correct address on it--I am blaming both on the infamous chemo brain that my husband doesn't believe exists...and I am sending the Christmas cards in spite of the fact that they are now a full month late--The kids say I am taking the excuse that I have Cancer just a little bit too far. That may be true, but I think I'm going to take advantage of it while I can. Next year when they're late I'll have to find a better excuse...like the Dog Ate My Christmas Cards.
The phenomenon of Chemo-brain has emerged in chemo's past--Take Chemo # 2 for example: Went skiing on Christmas day and took my cash card and driver's license to buy food and rent skis...remember coming home and putting them in a zipper pocket...got up early and went to chemo...came home with a different brain that couldn't remember for the life of me what zipper pocket I put the two vital cards in. No biggie...I wasn't going to be driving for at least 5 days while I recuped from chemo so I spent my energy on resting and was sure the cards would show up during the next 5 days. 1 week post chemo and I am thinking it might be time to locate the cards...search all snow pant pockets and ski jackets, wallet and purse...no cards, no stress, still not out running about except for dire "kids need a quick ride not very far" excursions. I drive cautiously as I know I have no license. Week two--I finally fess up to Ken that I am really missing the license and cash card...he rolls his eyeballs but thoughtfully checks the bank records for any unusual activity. Bank card has not been used and I sigh in relief knowing that the cards are safely zipped in somewhere.....another week passes and luckily I do not go shopping much and the two times I use my credit card and they ask for ID I somehow get away with using my Costco Card for a positive ID (Another reason to love Costco!!). 3 weeks have passed and I am almost ready to submit to the fact that I will have to go to the driver's license division and replace my license....but the very thought makes me check the house one more time--all past and present purses are searched for elusive cards, all jackets, kids' included are checked for cards, car is searched...other car is searched...piles of paper are sorted, couch cushions vacuumed...still no Cards. Chemo # 3 arrives and I have been missing my cards for a full 3 weeks. I climb into the car for chemo and open my black chemo bag where I keep all my cancer info and basics like lotion, chap stick, and a water bottle to survive my day at the chemo lounge....and what do I find in my handy little zipper pocket in the black bag???....My lost cash card and driver's license. Not sure why I put them in the chemo bag as I always take my purse with all the vital cards and money, but there they were "zipped" just as I remembered. Too bad the memory was only partial!!
And then Chemo # 3--chemo brain strikes again. This time I get up to find something to eat to fight off the nausea and pull out my retainers that I wear at night (remember, I just got my braces off!) I put them carefully on a surface thinking that I will need to remember where they are so that I can take them back upstairs and put them safely in their case. But Chemo Brain sets in and I head back upstairs to sleep away my yucky chemo days...with only a vague memory of taking them out and setting them someplace safe. 6 days later I finally return to some vestige of my former person and I am moving about the house wondering where I could have put those retainers....clean off the desks, windowsills, cabinets, counter tops...all flat surfaces such as tops of bookcases and fireplace mantels are checked....still no retainer. This time I know I can't look for three weeks--it took my teeth 2 1/2 years to move into the correct position, but surely they will move back out in less than a week!! The dentist doesn't work on Monday....so first thing on Tuesday (1 week post chemo) I call and arrange to replace my retainers $75 for the top, $75 for the bottom (wouldn't you think they come as a set???) and I willingly shell out the cash (would I have been so nice for a child who lost retainers???) and sit in the chair and breathe deep through my mouth and then my nose while that gummy, gooey Pina colada flavored mold goop drips down the back of my throat. And I go home and will my teeth to stay in position one more day while they make up the retainers. Sure enough, when I pick up my retainer on Wednesday at 2:30....Dr. Madsen points out that even though I can't tell--he can tell that my front teeth have shifted and out comes the polisher and sand paper and the artist puts my teeth into the exact proper place with a super tight retainer that will move everything back into position. Darn that Chemo Brain...it's causing the side effect of sore teeth.
So now I'm paying the price of losing my retainer by having to wear it everyday and night for the next three weeks. I can only hope that my brain is functioning well enough now that I can hold onto this set for at least the next three weeks...and then maybe on Feb 12 when I head for chemo #4 may the first pair appear on some safe counter top!! At the rate I'm going, I could really use having a spare set around the house that I can use when I lose the new set! I blame it all on Chemo--I need some excuse until old age sets in!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Half way through the Joy and Rapture!
Yep it's true...I'm technically half way finished with Chemo--thank goodness because my white blood cell count just isn't up to snuff these days...so I'm just hoping to keep somewhat to the original schedule and get finished up! Last round was almost cancelled due to my low count--but I batted my eyelashes and flashed my braceless smile and they let me go ahead with the scheduled infusion and my schedule Swedish Weave lesson ala my personal instructor, Jonelle Champion, aka date for the day.
This time they even let me sit on the opposite side of the room in a green recliner with a view of the snow flying outside--yipee! And thanks to Pat for my new description of what I get to say during my visit to the infusion room--"oh joy, oh rapture--I get to have my infusion of Cytoxan, methotrexate, and fluorouracil!!" So the good news is that they let me go ahead with infusion # 3--and the other good/bad news is that I have to/get to wait 4 weeks until infusion #4. That gives me two weeks to feel good instead of one...but bumps my finishing date by 3 weeks if I have to stick to the 4 week schedule. I think I better let them know that I'm on a time schedule--I have a family reunion to attend at the end of June and I realllllly need to stay on schedule to make that deadline!! Do they realize how many nieces and nephews are counting on their favorite crazy aunt to show up at "the lodge" for creek swimming and woodsy path exploring?? Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating the favorite aunt thing because MaurLo is really the favorite...but I'm trying to get a little sympathy and support with this scheduling thing.
I already highlighted my calendar, had Ken arrange his work schedule and everything...and now my calendar looks all messy and confusing (like usual!). I guess I should be grateful because the chemo fatigue has hit me with a really big stick this time. I was really enjoying getting off easy--4 days down and then by Saturday I felt good enough to get out of the house a bit...but this time I managed to stay down and out until Monday and then any escapes out of the house have been mostly to take kids to doctor and dentist appointments which means that I'm ready to crawl into bed for good by 5 pm--not such a hot plan when the kids want something to eat for dinner other than top ramen.
--so I must be better--because it is 11 and I'm still awake--truthfully that is only because another angel came to my house and got the kids ready for school while I stayed in bed and slept through the whole process and another angel showed up with a warm dinner to feed the hungry kids....the reality is that I only look like I'm keeping everything together because I repeatedly have people who are letting me rest while they take care of some of the basics of life! My kids are thinking that there are some great moms out there other than me and they are basking in all the yummy cooked goods and extra love and attention--and to be honest--so am I!
So--thanks to all of you for your help, phone calls, emails, cards, and love and prayers! Now I just need a magic recipe for boosting my white blood cells--although my Nurse Practicioner, Janet, assures me that there really isn't a magic potion other than time! In the last 2 weeks I've managed to avoid Ryan's flu, cold and ear infections, Rachel's bout with shingles, Andria's cough and cold and Ken's addiction to biking...okay I've avoided most of that--but managed to pick up some mild congestion, a cough and I have found myself craving the ability to pedal on a stationary bike now that it is sooo cold outside.
I say craving the ability because I have found myself sitting on the bike, pedaling...it just doesn't seem to be quality exercise these days because just a gentle push on the pedals makes my heart rate sore and my muscles are looking a bit soft these days--I'm wondering if my trek to Logan to ride in the Red Riding Hood Ride for Breast Cancer this June will be a ride or a chance to use a tag-along bike while Cathryn pulls me! Those days of enjoying a good sweat on the bike or eliptical seem like ancient history--now things like using a blowdryer long enough to dry my hair in one session or carrying the laundry up the stairs seem more like olympic events than everyday tasks. So I guess for now I'll have to learn to excell in the sport of relaxation, resting, and recuperating--this could prove to be the hardest part of surviving Cancer treatment yet! I'm off to bed--I mean, off to train for the triple R Olympics!!
This time they even let me sit on the opposite side of the room in a green recliner with a view of the snow flying outside--yipee! And thanks to Pat for my new description of what I get to say during my visit to the infusion room--"oh joy, oh rapture--I get to have my infusion of Cytoxan, methotrexate, and fluorouracil!!" So the good news is that they let me go ahead with infusion # 3--and the other good/bad news is that I have to/get to wait 4 weeks until infusion #4. That gives me two weeks to feel good instead of one...but bumps my finishing date by 3 weeks if I have to stick to the 4 week schedule. I think I better let them know that I'm on a time schedule--I have a family reunion to attend at the end of June and I realllllly need to stay on schedule to make that deadline!! Do they realize how many nieces and nephews are counting on their favorite crazy aunt to show up at "the lodge" for creek swimming and woodsy path exploring?? Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating the favorite aunt thing because MaurLo is really the favorite...but I'm trying to get a little sympathy and support with this scheduling thing.
I already highlighted my calendar, had Ken arrange his work schedule and everything...and now my calendar looks all messy and confusing (like usual!). I guess I should be grateful because the chemo fatigue has hit me with a really big stick this time. I was really enjoying getting off easy--4 days down and then by Saturday I felt good enough to get out of the house a bit...but this time I managed to stay down and out until Monday and then any escapes out of the house have been mostly to take kids to doctor and dentist appointments which means that I'm ready to crawl into bed for good by 5 pm--not such a hot plan when the kids want something to eat for dinner other than top ramen.
--so I must be better--because it is 11 and I'm still awake--truthfully that is only because another angel came to my house and got the kids ready for school while I stayed in bed and slept through the whole process and another angel showed up with a warm dinner to feed the hungry kids....the reality is that I only look like I'm keeping everything together because I repeatedly have people who are letting me rest while they take care of some of the basics of life! My kids are thinking that there are some great moms out there other than me and they are basking in all the yummy cooked goods and extra love and attention--and to be honest--so am I!
So--thanks to all of you for your help, phone calls, emails, cards, and love and prayers! Now I just need a magic recipe for boosting my white blood cells--although my Nurse Practicioner, Janet, assures me that there really isn't a magic potion other than time! In the last 2 weeks I've managed to avoid Ryan's flu, cold and ear infections, Rachel's bout with shingles, Andria's cough and cold and Ken's addiction to biking...okay I've avoided most of that--but managed to pick up some mild congestion, a cough and I have found myself craving the ability to pedal on a stationary bike now that it is sooo cold outside.
I say craving the ability because I have found myself sitting on the bike, pedaling...it just doesn't seem to be quality exercise these days because just a gentle push on the pedals makes my heart rate sore and my muscles are looking a bit soft these days--I'm wondering if my trek to Logan to ride in the Red Riding Hood Ride for Breast Cancer this June will be a ride or a chance to use a tag-along bike while Cathryn pulls me! Those days of enjoying a good sweat on the bike or eliptical seem like ancient history--now things like using a blowdryer long enough to dry my hair in one session or carrying the laundry up the stairs seem more like olympic events than everyday tasks. So I guess for now I'll have to learn to excell in the sport of relaxation, resting, and recuperating--this could prove to be the hardest part of surviving Cancer treatment yet! I'm off to bed--I mean, off to train for the triple R Olympics!!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Time flies when you're fighting Cancer...warning: this will take more than a minute to read!
I'm not sure why, but somehow my urge to write doesn't emerge until the late hours of the night...or maybe I should grasp reality and say the wee hours of the morning. During the last month I've had a million things to blog about, vent about or think about and somehow it just hasn't been the right moment or I just haven't felt brave enough to face the computer screen and the reality that all my friends and family are checking my blog to see how I'm coping with the everyday reality of how cancer has changed my life.
Maybe it would be faster to mention the ways it hasn't changed my life--dishes are still piling up in the sink, laundry is still piling up in hampers, corners, couches, empty counters, the top of the air hockey table and baskets throughout the house. The kids lunches are still left on the counter after multiple reminders to put it in the backpack and the piano still doesn't get practiced every day by every child. I still lose my temper, need sleep and don't have enought time to do everything I want and the house is still falling apart faster than I can even put the items on the homeimprovement to-do list (yep, I'm opening and closing the garage door the old fashioned way until the garage door people can come install a new motor...sometime next week).
All this is happening while I have the nagging thought in my head that I am supposed to be resting and letting my body fight this battle against these crazy cancer cells that might be lurking somewhere in my body just waiting for the chance to resume their crazy, and unpredictable growth. More obvious than the nagging thought in my head are the words my infusion nurse, Jennifer, said out loud the last time I was sitting in that green vinyl recliner sucking on a popsicle to prevent mouth sores "Your white blood count is a bit low. I know it was the holiday season, but you need to rest more, and eat more protein" Never really thought it was possible to feel guilt for NOT laying around the house and doing nothing, but here I am feeling guilty for the fact that I really stink at resting.
Another blog that I should have written, but didn't have enough emotional stamina to even think about it for two days after the experience was "How to pay $100 for a really good cry".
You see, ever since my mom died in a car accident 5 years ago, people have been telling me that I really should see a therapist. But because I thought I could handle everything life throws me with a big support network and an even bigger mouth that tells everyone just what I'm thinking at any given moment, I managed to avoid making an appointment to commune with the couch in a therapist office.
Even after several other major losses and challenges in life, I continued to bore my friends with my constant venting and detailed replies to their innocent question "How are you?" I'm pretty sure that the phrase "too much information" (TMI) has applied to me more often than I care to think about. In fact, the new phrase at our house is WTMI....Waaaaay Too Much Information, and it is probably a more apt description of how I have communicated my frustrations, my joys, and my sorrows over the last 5 years.
A year and a half ago I got to the point where my friends were beginning to think that a true black cloud was hanging over me...that might have been the point in time where we started to analyze the possibility of broken mirrors actually bringing on 7 years of bad luck (that's a whole other blog) or considering that retrograde mercury might be a scientific fact instead of an astrological possibility (another blog). All the household appliances were breaking down multiple times in a row and the car refused to be properly repaired after multiple trips to multiple repair shops and multiple requests for refunds on shoddy work (another blog). And inspite of the fact that I had the knowledge, resource and capability to fix all the broken things, I would have to cry (for the rest of the day) after the mechanic called to reveal another repair that had caused more damage that needed repaired. Not only was I crying, but I was enjoying the normal joys of life like reading stories to my kids or working in the yard from a distant fog, a little molehills of the day easily became mountains and I was putting myself in timeout more often than I was putting the kids there.
In reality, my life stresses at the time were probably pretty normal, but my OB/GYN informed me that my emotional reponses were not (normal that is) and that I might want to consider trying an anti-deppresant and talking to a therapist. That began my education that depression is not just wanting to stay in bed all day long...and that all my attempts to exercise, eat right and talk myself out of my funk, and keep doing the normal routine were just not working. So I tried some medication (luckily it worked fast and well)...but somehow I never got to the therapist (yep, I have a good list of excuses to justify that!) So just as I was working with my internist to see if my Effexor was a permanent part of life or just a temporarily needed boost to my system....the lump sent me to the mammogram which sent me to the ultrasound which sent me to the biopsy which sent me into this spiral of lving with cancer. So now that you've read through all that WTMI I can get to the 'paying lots of money for a good cry' part.
I don't want anyone to think that I haven't been recieving lots of good free cries over the last five years, the closet is free, the shower is free, my husband's shoulder is free, and phone calls to my friends to cry are free as long as I remember to call on the cell phone and not go over my monthly minutes! I know how to have a good cry...but the $100 dollar cry was one that I'm still considering the value of.
Serendipitously a friend of mine mentioned that she knew someone good to talk to, not that other friends haven't suggested names or suggested therapy, but somehow this time I was ready to listen, and the therapist met the requirements of taking my insurance, office with an easy commute, and the most important, returning my phone request for a call back to set up an appointment. So with a date on the calendar I geared myself up for a visit to a THERAPIST.
Funny thing happens when you make an appointment...it's like trying to get a mechanic to hear that funny clunking noise that you've heard in your car for months....life seems to be going fine- kids are good, house is relatively clean, husband is being extra thoughtful, emotions feel under control/normal and you seem to be coping fine and you are wondering what you really need to talk to a therapist for. But I'm one who is highly committed to things written down on the calendar (if I remember to look at it) and I arranged my schedule and showed up for my appointment.
Mistake number one: I didn't wear waterproof mascara!
I haven't cried for quite a while ( at least 2 weeks) so I quit wearing my waterproof mascara that I have been wearing since I found out I had cancer and started crying at random times when I would be talking to friends about how life was...I'm really just too lazy to use makeup remover to clean my eyelashes and I was happy to just be using normal mascara that washes off with soap and water. Besides there is a comfort in wearing normal mascara...it means you are "normal" and can go through the day without spontaneously bursting into tears about some random comment someone makes.
Mistake number two: My hormones are out of wack!
Because of Chemo my poor body is not sure what to think its hormonal age is--I still have all my blonde (well...dirty blonde and graying) hair but since baldness isn't a sure side affect of CMF I have to deal with the side effect of going into menopause at age 38...but it's not a for sure side affect, just a possibility and so my body can't decide whether to be young...or menopausal...so now I have no schedule to predict when my PMS days are...maybe now everyday is a PPMS day (a Perhaps Pre- Menopausal Syndrome). WTMI but the reality is that my emotional days were pretty predictable and now they aren't....so I was already a bit emotional when I went, just not on schedule enough to make me think "this is a waterproof mascara day"!
Mistake number three: I went to a therapist with a real couch and a real big box of kleenex within easy reach.
To make matters worse there was a beautiful water color painting on the wall that looked just like Josie and Julie riding the horses through the trees at the ranch (I need my waterproof mascara just writing about it). And the reality of all my losses immediately felt fresh and raw. It didn't really help that my therapist is a nice sympathetic, gentle speaking woman who makes you feel like you really should be crying about your life...and she is really good at just listening for a full hour while you try to talk about all the things on your list that she might possibly be able to give you advice about. So somehow I talked/cried a full hour until the secretary buzzed in to say "Your 11 o'clock appointment is here".
By the time I composed myself enough to walk down the hall, hope that the 11 o'clock appointment wasn't coming up the stairs (that might have scared them off!), and find my car I had somehow spent $100. Then I had to sit in my car for 15 minutes and think (as much as you can think with an I Just Cried for an Hour Headache) about what I had to show for my expenditure that wasn't nearly as fun as a drop-in visit to TJ MAXX. What I got out of the visit: go to the library or bookstore and get a DVD or book on Guided Imagry Relaxation, breath deeply and relax 20 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes in the evening. Write in my journal everyday (or blog...oops, now you know how well I followed that advice!). Keep talking to husband, friends and family....I'm doing that right. Look for support groups for my kids that don't have very supportive friends and read the PEOPLE CODE (more typically known as the color code) by Taylor Hartman.
So here I sit--giving myself some free therapy by writing WTMI for the world to read. And just in case you are wondering, I think about breathing deeply at least 5 times during the day...and I breathe deeply for as long as I can before I am distracted by the next thing that needs done. My personal librarian (who picks up, drops off and renews my books without a single reminder from me--The library is loosing out big time on predictable Johnson overdue fines!) has the requested books on hold or on search....and I am still thinking about support groups for the kids...they aren't too hip on the idea. I have written in my journal a few times and I am able to wear normal mascara, unless I blog. It took two days to recover from therapy....good thing I have at least 3 weeks to think about whether or not I really want to go again.
I went to bowling the next day and talked to anyone/everyone there who would listen (therapy for free) and came home with: no bloodshot, red, swollen eyes; no headache; lots of hugs and encouragement to keep on living and enjoying life; appreciation for the fact that other people have difficulties too and I don't necessarily want to switch my problems for theirs; a good laugh at the fact that I still always say "at least we are all healthy and happy" and I'm really talking about myself and my family as if we have no health issues to deal with; grattitude for female friend who don't try to offer solutions to my problems but just simpathize and tell me that I'm doing a great job of coping (they always say that it's the thought that counts and so I prefer to think of myself as coping just fine and then it will be true).
I'm really starting to think that the true therapists are the people around me who are willing to listen to me even when I give WTMI and don't send me a bill at the end of the conversation. In reality I have therapists in the form of the Baxter and Johnson families, my neighbors, at the school when I volunteer, at church, when I pick up kids from playdates, on the soccer and basketball sidelines, in my email inbox, on the answering machine, in the mail in the form of a card, at bowling on Wednesdays between chemo when I can actually lift the ball, all my Alliance friends, the JETS, my friends from DC, El Paso, New Orleans, Utah, Ricks College, USU, UTEP--you have all been telling me that I need to breath more deeply and blog more often--and it hasn't cost me a dime! I think I'll keep all you free therapists and throw in a shopping trip to TJ MAXX--no waterproof mascara required!
Maybe it would be faster to mention the ways it hasn't changed my life--dishes are still piling up in the sink, laundry is still piling up in hampers, corners, couches, empty counters, the top of the air hockey table and baskets throughout the house. The kids lunches are still left on the counter after multiple reminders to put it in the backpack and the piano still doesn't get practiced every day by every child. I still lose my temper, need sleep and don't have enought time to do everything I want and the house is still falling apart faster than I can even put the items on the homeimprovement to-do list (yep, I'm opening and closing the garage door the old fashioned way until the garage door people can come install a new motor...sometime next week).
All this is happening while I have the nagging thought in my head that I am supposed to be resting and letting my body fight this battle against these crazy cancer cells that might be lurking somewhere in my body just waiting for the chance to resume their crazy, and unpredictable growth. More obvious than the nagging thought in my head are the words my infusion nurse, Jennifer, said out loud the last time I was sitting in that green vinyl recliner sucking on a popsicle to prevent mouth sores "Your white blood count is a bit low. I know it was the holiday season, but you need to rest more, and eat more protein" Never really thought it was possible to feel guilt for NOT laying around the house and doing nothing, but here I am feeling guilty for the fact that I really stink at resting.
Another blog that I should have written, but didn't have enough emotional stamina to even think about it for two days after the experience was "How to pay $100 for a really good cry".
You see, ever since my mom died in a car accident 5 years ago, people have been telling me that I really should see a therapist. But because I thought I could handle everything life throws me with a big support network and an even bigger mouth that tells everyone just what I'm thinking at any given moment, I managed to avoid making an appointment to commune with the couch in a therapist office.
Even after several other major losses and challenges in life, I continued to bore my friends with my constant venting and detailed replies to their innocent question "How are you?" I'm pretty sure that the phrase "too much information" (TMI) has applied to me more often than I care to think about. In fact, the new phrase at our house is WTMI....Waaaaay Too Much Information, and it is probably a more apt description of how I have communicated my frustrations, my joys, and my sorrows over the last 5 years.
A year and a half ago I got to the point where my friends were beginning to think that a true black cloud was hanging over me...that might have been the point in time where we started to analyze the possibility of broken mirrors actually bringing on 7 years of bad luck (that's a whole other blog) or considering that retrograde mercury might be a scientific fact instead of an astrological possibility (another blog). All the household appliances were breaking down multiple times in a row and the car refused to be properly repaired after multiple trips to multiple repair shops and multiple requests for refunds on shoddy work (another blog). And inspite of the fact that I had the knowledge, resource and capability to fix all the broken things, I would have to cry (for the rest of the day) after the mechanic called to reveal another repair that had caused more damage that needed repaired. Not only was I crying, but I was enjoying the normal joys of life like reading stories to my kids or working in the yard from a distant fog, a little molehills of the day easily became mountains and I was putting myself in timeout more often than I was putting the kids there.
In reality, my life stresses at the time were probably pretty normal, but my OB/GYN informed me that my emotional reponses were not (normal that is) and that I might want to consider trying an anti-deppresant and talking to a therapist. That began my education that depression is not just wanting to stay in bed all day long...and that all my attempts to exercise, eat right and talk myself out of my funk, and keep doing the normal routine were just not working. So I tried some medication (luckily it worked fast and well)...but somehow I never got to the therapist (yep, I have a good list of excuses to justify that!) So just as I was working with my internist to see if my Effexor was a permanent part of life or just a temporarily needed boost to my system....the lump sent me to the mammogram which sent me to the ultrasound which sent me to the biopsy which sent me into this spiral of lving with cancer. So now that you've read through all that WTMI I can get to the 'paying lots of money for a good cry' part.
I don't want anyone to think that I haven't been recieving lots of good free cries over the last five years, the closet is free, the shower is free, my husband's shoulder is free, and phone calls to my friends to cry are free as long as I remember to call on the cell phone and not go over my monthly minutes! I know how to have a good cry...but the $100 dollar cry was one that I'm still considering the value of.
Serendipitously a friend of mine mentioned that she knew someone good to talk to, not that other friends haven't suggested names or suggested therapy, but somehow this time I was ready to listen, and the therapist met the requirements of taking my insurance, office with an easy commute, and the most important, returning my phone request for a call back to set up an appointment. So with a date on the calendar I geared myself up for a visit to a THERAPIST.
Funny thing happens when you make an appointment...it's like trying to get a mechanic to hear that funny clunking noise that you've heard in your car for months....life seems to be going fine- kids are good, house is relatively clean, husband is being extra thoughtful, emotions feel under control/normal and you seem to be coping fine and you are wondering what you really need to talk to a therapist for. But I'm one who is highly committed to things written down on the calendar (if I remember to look at it) and I arranged my schedule and showed up for my appointment.
Mistake number one: I didn't wear waterproof mascara!
I haven't cried for quite a while ( at least 2 weeks) so I quit wearing my waterproof mascara that I have been wearing since I found out I had cancer and started crying at random times when I would be talking to friends about how life was...I'm really just too lazy to use makeup remover to clean my eyelashes and I was happy to just be using normal mascara that washes off with soap and water. Besides there is a comfort in wearing normal mascara...it means you are "normal" and can go through the day without spontaneously bursting into tears about some random comment someone makes.
Mistake number two: My hormones are out of wack!
Because of Chemo my poor body is not sure what to think its hormonal age is--I still have all my blonde (well...dirty blonde and graying) hair but since baldness isn't a sure side affect of CMF I have to deal with the side effect of going into menopause at age 38...but it's not a for sure side affect, just a possibility and so my body can't decide whether to be young...or menopausal...so now I have no schedule to predict when my PMS days are...maybe now everyday is a PPMS day (a Perhaps Pre- Menopausal Syndrome). WTMI but the reality is that my emotional days were pretty predictable and now they aren't....so I was already a bit emotional when I went, just not on schedule enough to make me think "this is a waterproof mascara day"!
Mistake number three: I went to a therapist with a real couch and a real big box of kleenex within easy reach.
To make matters worse there was a beautiful water color painting on the wall that looked just like Josie and Julie riding the horses through the trees at the ranch (I need my waterproof mascara just writing about it). And the reality of all my losses immediately felt fresh and raw. It didn't really help that my therapist is a nice sympathetic, gentle speaking woman who makes you feel like you really should be crying about your life...and she is really good at just listening for a full hour while you try to talk about all the things on your list that she might possibly be able to give you advice about. So somehow I talked/cried a full hour until the secretary buzzed in to say "Your 11 o'clock appointment is here".
By the time I composed myself enough to walk down the hall, hope that the 11 o'clock appointment wasn't coming up the stairs (that might have scared them off!), and find my car I had somehow spent $100. Then I had to sit in my car for 15 minutes and think (as much as you can think with an I Just Cried for an Hour Headache) about what I had to show for my expenditure that wasn't nearly as fun as a drop-in visit to TJ MAXX. What I got out of the visit: go to the library or bookstore and get a DVD or book on Guided Imagry Relaxation, breath deeply and relax 20 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes in the evening. Write in my journal everyday (or blog...oops, now you know how well I followed that advice!). Keep talking to husband, friends and family....I'm doing that right. Look for support groups for my kids that don't have very supportive friends and read the PEOPLE CODE (more typically known as the color code) by Taylor Hartman.
So here I sit--giving myself some free therapy by writing WTMI for the world to read. And just in case you are wondering, I think about breathing deeply at least 5 times during the day...and I breathe deeply for as long as I can before I am distracted by the next thing that needs done. My personal librarian (who picks up, drops off and renews my books without a single reminder from me--The library is loosing out big time on predictable Johnson overdue fines!) has the requested books on hold or on search....and I am still thinking about support groups for the kids...they aren't too hip on the idea. I have written in my journal a few times and I am able to wear normal mascara, unless I blog. It took two days to recover from therapy....good thing I have at least 3 weeks to think about whether or not I really want to go again.
I went to bowling the next day and talked to anyone/everyone there who would listen (therapy for free) and came home with: no bloodshot, red, swollen eyes; no headache; lots of hugs and encouragement to keep on living and enjoying life; appreciation for the fact that other people have difficulties too and I don't necessarily want to switch my problems for theirs; a good laugh at the fact that I still always say "at least we are all healthy and happy" and I'm really talking about myself and my family as if we have no health issues to deal with; grattitude for female friend who don't try to offer solutions to my problems but just simpathize and tell me that I'm doing a great job of coping (they always say that it's the thought that counts and so I prefer to think of myself as coping just fine and then it will be true).
I'm really starting to think that the true therapists are the people around me who are willing to listen to me even when I give WTMI and don't send me a bill at the end of the conversation. In reality I have therapists in the form of the Baxter and Johnson families, my neighbors, at the school when I volunteer, at church, when I pick up kids from playdates, on the soccer and basketball sidelines, in my email inbox, on the answering machine, in the mail in the form of a card, at bowling on Wednesdays between chemo when I can actually lift the ball, all my Alliance friends, the JETS, my friends from DC, El Paso, New Orleans, Utah, Ricks College, USU, UTEP--you have all been telling me that I need to breath more deeply and blog more often--and it hasn't cost me a dime! I think I'll keep all you free therapists and throw in a shopping trip to TJ MAXX--no waterproof mascara required!
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